


A beat of the heart

by PrettyCalypso



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M, So it's sad, also Ian is dying, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyCalypso/pseuds/PrettyCalypso
Summary: Ian is dying. Fiona thinks he should tell his roommate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sad fic, and I'm not quite sure why I wrote it, but at the same time, things are going relatively well in the fandom lately, so I figured we could all handle a little drama and tears.
> 
> Also, I'm not a doctor, and I made some quick researches about what Ian has, but I changed some details to my convenience, so if it's not realistic it doesn't really matter, it's not the point here.

 

The diagnosis fell, heavy, like a sentence in court, Ian was even imaging the judge's gavel hitting the hard wood and resonating in the room. _You are going to die._ A short, simple, sentence, but also one of the scariest of all.

 

***

 

Once past the initial shock, once all the tears had dried up in the family, Fiona's sudden advice weirdly made sense.

 

“You need to tell your roommate. Just in case it – it happens while you're with him. So he doesn't freak out.”

 

She didn't know that her brother had a huge crush on his roommate, but it was not like it mattered anymore, Ian would be dead too soon to care about those things. So he decided that yes, he was going to tell Mickey.

 

He prepared a nice meal, exactly like he had done when he had told his siblings, and he waited for Mickey to come home. The apartment felt cold and way too silent as Ian sat patiently on the couch, his heart beating fast. Stupid traitor. Asshole bastard of a heart who was about to betray him before he even hit the 25 years old mark. The sun went down, and the lightning decreased in the apartment, but Ian didn't bother to turn on the lights. He sat quietly on the couch for another fifteen minutes, before Mickey finally came home.

 

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” the black-haired man asked after flicking the switch.

 

Ian shrugged. He didn't really have an answer to that question, but Mickey didn't push further anyway. The redhead stood up and walked to the kitchen.

 

“I made chicken and pasta. Do you want some?”

 

Mickey raised an eyebrow in surprise. They were roommates who got along, but they were very rarely eating together – mostly due to their work schedule – and they even less often cooked for each other.

 

“Yeah, sure.” he answered, still looking a little suspicious. “You're okay?”

 

Ian nodded as he filled two plates with food. He silently put them on the counter in front of him, and Mickey sat on one of the stools. Ian watched his roommate dig into the meal, and looked down at his own plate. He was still standing in the middle of the kitchen and, honestly, he didn't feel like eating.

 

“You look fucking weird.” Mickey noticed after swallowing another mouthful of pasta.

 

Ian hinted a small smile. He needed to tell him. He took a deep breath, and looked up at Mickey.

 

“I'm dying.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'm gonna die some time soon. I don't know exactly when, it could be in three minutes or in three years, but most likely within the year.”

 

Mickey opened his mouth, seemed to think about something to say, and closed it back. He looked down at his food, and up at Ian, and opened his mouth again.

 

“How...? Why?”

 

“Some kind of aneurysm, in my heart, it could snap at any moment.”

 

The two men were silent for another moment, until Mickey finally stood up and walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind himself. Ian released a long breath and closed his eyes. It was done, he had said it, and if Mickey couldn't deal with it, well it was too bad, but it also wasn't really his problem anymore, Ian had enough to do with dealing with his own fate to comfort others. Mickey came out of his room a couple of minutes later though, he had changed from his work clothes to something more casual and clean.

 

“Come on, we're going out.” he declared.

 

“What?”

 

“If you're gonna die soon, don't waste your time eating fucking pasta in your apartment. We're going out and you're gonna enjoy the life you have left.”

 

Ian smiled, suddenly remembering why he had a crush on this guy. Mickey wasn't really one to go out, he usually preferred staying home, watching shitty movies or playing video games – especially after a long day at work – but here he was, throwing all that through the window just so Ian could have fun and enjoy life while he was still able to.

 

***

 

“Okay, where do you want to go first?” Mickey asked once they were both out, walking side by side in the darkening street.

 

“I don't know.” Ian shrugged.

 

“It's your night, we can go wherever you want. Isn't there something you've always wanted to do but never got to do it?”

 

Ian thought about it for a few seconds. There were a lot of things he had always wanted to do, but he could hardly climb on top of the Eiffel Tower or swim in the Great Barrier Reef during a night out in Chicago.

 

“The Ferris Wheel.” he found himself answering. “I've always wanted to go to Navy Pier, buy ice cream or cotton candy, and take a ride on the Ferris Wheel. Growing up we were too poor to do that.”

 

“Alright, let's do it then.” Mickey smiled. “I've never been either.”

 

After a ride on the Ferris Wheel – in which Mickey found out he actually had a fear of heights – they bought some more cotton candy and wandered aimlessly in the well-lit streets in the heart of the city. They stopped by a fancy restaurant just before it closed and ordered a small and very expensive deep dish pizza – which wasn't that good after all. And when they walked by a club with neon lights and music pouring through the doors every time somebody walked in or out, Mickey paused and raised his eyebrows both as a question and as an invitation.

 

“A club?” Ian smirked. “I didn't think you were the kind of guy who likes dancing and loud shitty music.”

 

“I'm not.” Mickey replied with a matching grin. “But I know that you are, and it's your night so...”

 

“Alright then.” Ian chanted, walking happily to the entrance, Mickey following close behind.

 

And Mickey was really not the type of guy who danced in clubs, but Ian didn't give him much of a choice when he grabbed his hands and dragged him to the dance-floor – and Mickey would deny to the end of times ever having had fun dancing with Ian that night.

 

They walked back to the apartment only a couple hours before sunrise, exhausted but ecstatic, their joy radiating all around them.

 

“This night was amazing!” Ian exclaimed a little too loudly considering they were still in the hallway in front of their apartment's door and it was three in the morning.

 

He clapped his hand in front of his mouth when he realized he might wake up the neighbor, and giggled like a child caught with his hand in the candy jar. Mickey rolled his eyes at him as he opened the door, but he couldn't help his own small laugh.

 

“Thank you.” Ian said, more serious, once they were both inside, standing face to face in the living room.

 

“You're welcome.” Mickey nodded, still smiling.

 

They looked at each other for a beat, neither of them saying anything, and then Mickey took a step forward and gripped at Ian's neck, bringing their lips together. The kiss was chaste and short-lived, as the black-haired man stepped away almost immediately.

 

“Sorry.” he mumbled, not looking at Ian. “It's just something _I_ 've always wanted to do. So, you know, it was now or never...”

 

Ian didn't even wait to know if Mickey had more to say before he lurched forward and kissed him again.

 

***

 

Mickey laid awake in the dark, looking at Ian's chest rising and falling as he breathed peacefully in his sleep. He would never admit it out loud to the redhead, but Mickey often woke up in the middle of the night just to make sure his boyfriend was still alive. _Five weeks._ It had been five weeks since Ian had told Mickey about his fate, five weeks since they had started dating, and the redhead was still alive and well. They barely ever talked about it, but Mickey was scared, he was scared every single minute that it would be his last with Ian.

 

He breathed slowly and brought his hand to brush lightly against Ian's cheek. Ian stirred in his sleep. Mickey hesitated for a moment between repeating the movement and waking up his boyfriend, or taking his hand away and letting him sleep. He settled for the former. Ian groaned and blinked a few times.

 

“What?” he grunted, his voice still heavy with sleep.

 

“I just...” Mickey started, not knowing how to end this sentence.

 

He sighed, and sat a little straighter against the headboard, his hand not leaving Ian's face. The redhead looked up at him and smiled.

 

“I'm good.” he assured Mickey.

 

“I know. I'm just... I'm scared.”

 

“I'm scared too.” Ian confessed, moving so that he was now seated facing Mickey.

 

His lips were no longer smiling and his eyes were sad. Mickey resumed the gentle stroking movement with his hand, and leaned forward to kiss him softly. He kept their foreheads resting against one another and breathed in the air they were now sharing. He had only started to open his mouth, when Ian interrupted him.

 

“Please don't say it.”

 

“Why?” Mickey asked in a murmur.

 

“I don't want you to start feeling stuff that will only hurt you in the end.”

 

“It's not because I don't say it that I don't feel it, Ian.”

 

The redhead took a shaky breath, and Mickey parted a little from his boyfriend to be able to look him in the eyes. He brought his other hand up and captured Ian's face in a strong grip.

 

“I love you.”

 

Ian didn't say anything, he just let a tear roll down his cheek, between Mickey's fingers, and held his gaze for several long seconds. Finally, Mickey took his hands away, and Ian laid back down on the bed, Mickey snuggling against his chest. Ian stroke his boyfriend's hair for some time, as Mickey listened to his heart beat – he knew Mickey liked to do that, it reassured him, and Ian didn't mind so much anymore.

 

“I love you too.” he whispered in the silence of the room, and he felt Mickey smile against his bare chest.

 

***

 

They were casually lounging on the couch, Ian's legs stretched out above Mickey's, watching a re-run of Desperate Housewives when Ian pointed at the TV.

 

“You'll have a house like that someday.” he simply said.

 

“Oh really?” Mickey smirked. “You see me living in the fucking suburbs with the white fences and the annoying ladies bringing me cookies?”

 

“Yeah.” Ian nodded, his eyes shining playfully. “You're gonna meet an awesome guy, who will not only be very handsome, but also nice, and funny. You'll live together in the city for a while, before getting married and moving to the suburbs. You'll get a dog, and the neighbors will adore your husband, but they will also hate and fear you with your tattoos and your colorful language. They'll hide their children from you. Then one day you'll get a kid of your own, you'll adopt or use a surrogate, whatever, I just know you'll be an awesome dad. And when your kid will leave for college, you and your husband will travel the world. You'll see Paris, and Rome. You'll go to Japan, to Indonesia, to Australia, and Africa. And when you'll be tired of traveling, and you have to go home anyway because your kid is getting married, you'll happily come back to your house with a white fence and green grass. And you'll grow old together in the suburbs, surrounded by grand-children who adore you because you teach them how to fire a gun in secret...”

 

Ian smiled, but his eyes had lost all light toward the middle of his little story, and Mickey couldn't think of anything else to do but to rub his calves gently.

 

“Ian...”

 

“Promise me you'll do all that, Mick. Promise me.”

 

Ian's eyes were sad again, but his smile was still here, forced and demanding.

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded. “Okay. I'll do all that.”

 

***

 

Mickey came back home a few weeks later to find Ian seating in front of the window, drawing the city skyline on his pad. The redhead had stopped working not long after he had told Mickey about his condition, and he was spending his days drawing, writing, reading, exploring the city and taking pictures, and he had even learned how to play guitar. He was doing all the stuff he had always wanted to do.

 

Mickey walked to his boyfriend and leaned above his shoulder, kissing his cheek lightly.

 

“You're getting better.” he noticed, looking at the drawing.

 

“I know, right?” Ian beamed proudly.

 

He went back to his art, and Mickey dropped himself on the couch, turning the TV on.

 

“I found him.” Ian suddenly declared several minutes later.

 

“Found who?”

 

“Your future husband.”

 

Mickey sighed. He didn't want to hear about Ian's crazy scheme to find him a guy for _after_.

 

“I met him at the library today.” the redhead continued. “He's gorgeous and charming. He has a good job and he seems very nice. We talked a little and I asked for his number.”

 

“So now he thinks you're gonna call him?”

 

“No, I told him it wasn't for me.”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes. Ian turned toward him on his chair and smiled.

 

“Give me your phone, I'll put the number in.”

 

“Seriously?” Mickey groaned.

 

“Come on Mick.” Ian insisted with his big pleading puppy eyes he knew Mickey couldn't resist.

 

The black-haired man sighed again and handed his boyfriend his phone.

 

“His name is Jack.” Ian said as he copied the number from his own phone. “Jack and Mickey, it sounds good right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess...”

 

Ian gave the device back to Mickey, keeping his hand on it for a few seconds too long.

 

“You'll call him, right? Not right now, but in the future?”

 

Mickey didn't want to answer, he was tired of making promises that broke his heart.

 

“Mick?” Ian repeated, more authoritative this time, tugging on the phone a little.

 

“Yeah, okay, I'll call him.” Mickey gave in, and Ian finally released the phone. “Jesus...”

 

***

 

“We should get married.”

 

The demand came out of nowhere one night, and even Mickey was surprise when the sentence crossed his lips. Ian looked at him with wide eyes and shook his head violently.

 

“No.” he just said, quickly going back to his book.

 

For a second, Mickey thought about dropping the subject, but then he realized that he actually wanted that, he actually wanted to marry this guy, and he was pretty sure he had good enough reasons to build his case – other than the fact that he was desperately in love with him of course.

 

“Why not?” he asked, leveling the ground.

 

“I don't want you to be a widower in your 20s.”Ian answered, not detaching his eyes from his book.

 

“And what if I don't mind?”

 

Ian sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds, and he closed his book after carefully marking the page he was on. He turned fully to face Mickey and look at him in the eyes.

 

“Why would you even want that?”

 

“I love you.” Mickey started. “And we've been together for over a year now and you're still here, so maybe, maybe we'll grow old together, maybe I won't need Jack.”

 

“Mick...”

 

Ian bowed his head a little, watching Mickey with what almost seemed like pity.

 

“Okay, okay, forget that.” Mickey corrected right away. “I promise I will marry Jack some day, or another guy even better than him. But in the meantime you're the one who's here, you're the one in my life, in my bed, and in my heart – as gay as it sounds – and I want to be with you if not for the rest of my life, at least for the rest of yours. And if it means that I'll be a widower by this time next year, then screw it, I don't give a shit, as long as I get to be with you here and now.”

 

“But why marriage? Why can't we just keep having what we have now?”

 

“Because when you'll be... _gone_ , I'll just be this guy you dated for a while, I won't matter more than some random guy you might have banged in high school, I'll just be one among the others.”

 

“No.” Ian shook his head. “You know you'll always be more.”

 

“Not legally though. I want to be able to make decisions for you _after_ on the same level that Fiona and Lip. I want to be considered, even if it just to choose the music at the funeral. I want to have a voice, and I want the world to know that you weren't just anybody to me, and that I wasn't just anybody to you.”

 

Mickey was surprised he had managed to go through his entire speech without crying, but not the same could be said for Ian whose face was wet with tears and eyes were red and puffy.

 

“Okay.” he croaked between two sobs. “I'll marry you.”

 

***

 

They headed to the courthouse the very next day, and they got married within an hour, surrounded by a bunch of Gallaghers, and the only couple of Milkovich siblings Mickey actually liked. They wore the best second hand suits Debbie and Mandy had managed to find on such short notice, and exchanged the rings Fiona had bargained for at a pawn shop. Then they all went to drink at the Alibi for free, and planned to party until sunrise.

 

“There's somewhere we need to go.” Ian confessed in Mickey's ear while their family was being loud and getting drunk. “Just me and you.”

 

“Okay.” Mickey nodded, and the two men eclipsed from the bar without anybody noticing.

 

They walked for a couple of blocks, their pace matching and their hands brushing with every new step, until Ian finally stopped in front of a tattoo parlor.

 

“You want to get a tattoo? Now?” Mickey laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

 

“Yeah, it's an idea I had this morning that seemed very obvious.” Ian nodded, pushing the door open. “I'm gonna get my wedding band tattoo on my finger, so I can have it on me forever.”

 

“That's a good idea.” Mickey smiled. “I might do the same.”

 

“No you can't.” Ian shook his head. “Because you need to be able to take it off at one point.”

 

Mickey sighed but didn't argue, because he knew Ian was right, of course Ian was right.

 

“Although...” the redhead continued, his own smile forming on his lips. “I didn't forget about you, so...”

 

Mickey waited, watching his now-husband putting his hand in his jacket pocket and fishing a thin silver chain out of it. Ian took his own ring out of his finger, opened the little clasp of the chain, and slipped the ring on it before closing it. He handed the object to Mickey with a smile.

 

“I want you to keep it.” he declared. “You can get rid of your own ring when you re-marry, or you can decide to add it to the chain, or you can even lock them both in a box and never look at them again, it doesn't matter. It's your decision now.”

 

Mickey cautiously took the chain and looked at it for a moment. He didn't know yet what would be his decision concerning the object in the future, but for now he just wanted to keep it on him at all time, so he re-opened the clasp of the chain and tied it around his neck. Ian smiled again, before turning toward the tattoo artist and making his request.

 

***

 

It happened only a couple of days later. When Mickey woke up, Ian was laying next to him, his body still and already almost cold. His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. A part of Mickey wanted to believe that Ian was only sleeping, but when he snuggled against his husband, resting his head on his chest and heard nothing but silence, he knew he would never hear it again, the steady, warm beat of Ian's heart. He stayed in this position for several minutes, trying to memorize his husband's scent, and the feeling of his skin under his fingers. And then, maybe an hour later, or maybe only five minutes, he detached himself from Ian and left a tender kiss on his lips.

 

“I love you.”

 


End file.
